


Those Damn Glasses

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Glasses, M/M, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:43:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Had a request for e/R against a wall with the bottom (Enjolras) wearing specs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Damn Glasses

 

It was the glasses that did it. Goddamn, but those glasses weren’t  _fair_. Grantaire could still scarcely believe that he and Enjolras were dating now, even if they’d been kissing in the halls whenever they met each other moving from class to class and dear God, it wasn’t  _fair_ , because Grantaire had never seen Enjolras’ glasses before.

He’d been lying on the sofa in his and Combeferre’s apartment when Grantaire had come in, brow furrowed, lips pressed tightly together, as he studied the book splayed across his thighs. And he was wearing  _glasses_.

They were black, thick rimmed and rectangular, and Grantaire couldn’t help but stare, his lips parting and his mouth going dry. “Come here.” Grantaire said in a strangled tone, kicking the door shut behind him, and Enjolras looked up, blue eyes wide behind the glass. 

"Grantaire?"

”Here.” Enjolras seemed amused, setting his book aside before moving from the sofa, cat-like, graceful, as he approached the brunet and affected him with an interested gaze. Grantaire was used to that stare, but not when it was behind a pair of spectacles, not accentuated in the way it was now.

"What?" The blond asked, and Grantaire grabbed him by the fabric of his t-shirt (and oh God, it was one of his fucking  _ACAB_  shirts, and Grantaire had thought Combeferre had gotten rid of all those since the last protest they’d been to) and pulled him close, catching Enjolras’ lips under his own as he turned them around and throwing the other man back against the wall.

Enjolras let out a surprised noise that was muffled against Grantaire’s mouth, but when the brunet undid his jeans (and by God, Grantaire was grateful that these were the red jeggings and not the proper skinny jeans that took two weeks to get Enjolras out of), he made no complaint, arching his back from the wall to make the job easier.

Grantaire soon had Enjolras naked, by virtue of clever artist’s hands and a very willing partner, and when Grantaire moved to pull away Enjolras caught him by the sleeve. “ _No_ , I’ve already- come on, you ingrate, don’t leave me now-“

Grantaire laughed despite himself, but when Enjolras moved to pull the glasses off his nose, Grantaire caught his wrist. “Oh no.” He purred, and his hand moved down again, two fingers pressing forwards and yes, dear God, Enjolras was  _wet_ -

"Couldn’t wait for me?" Grantaire asked, and while his tone was smug, inwardly he was completely amazed, because Enjolras  _nodded_ , his lips parted, his specs slightly dislodged, and Grantaire let out a choked noise.

He lifted Enjolras then, and the blond went readily and willingly, wrapping his thighs tightly around Grantaire’s hips as the brunet lined himself up. The sound Enjolras made was gratifying, drawn out and half whined as he clenched tightly around the other man.

His head fell back, and Grantaire was enchanted at the sight, for Enjolras’ glasses were ever so slightly askew and his pretty lips were parted, his eyes closed tightly behind the lenses. “You never said you wore glasses.”

"I d-don’t, usually-" Enjolras’ words came out choked, interrupted by a hard thrust and the beginning of a rapid rhythm from Grantaire, and he braced himself against the wall with his right hand, the left tight at Grantaire’s shoulder. "I wear contacts,  _ah_ , Grantaire-“

"So beautiful, so beautiful-" Grantaire muttered, and then he was dipping again, and their next kiss was a clash of teeth and tongues more than gentle lips - when Grantaire pulled away his lip was bleeding, and Enjolras looked more triumphant than he ought.

"Those fucking glasses." Grantaire grunted, and he leaned forwards so that Enjolras could put his errant teeth to Grantaire’s neck instead, biting and nipping at the skin. "Fucking sadist."

"What does that have to do with the glasses?" Enjolras asked, sounding pleased with himself.

"The sight of them is cruel to me." Grantaire maintained, and he sped his pace up, thrusting deeper, quicker, and digging his nails into Enjolras’ hips to hear the cry he let out (Enjolras was as much a masochist as he was a sadist, and Grantaire loved it).

Enjolras’ orgasm came quickly, leaving him clenching around Grantaire and spattering against the t-shirt (he hoped it wouldn’t wash out, because policemen were three times as rough with Enjolras when they saw an “All Cops are Bastards” shirt on his chest, and they were rough to begin with), and Grantaire came with Enjolras’ lips locked at his collarbone, where Grantaire’s own shirt left a little skin free to be bitten.

Enjolras’ head lolled back, and he looked positively  _debauched_ , made all the better by the glasses on his face. “Carry me to bed.” He demanded.

"Anything for you." Grantaire purred, holding Enjolras tightly and bringing him into the bedroom, dropping him onto the bed and watching the way he spread out on the sheets, letting out a quiet groan.

"My shirt!" Enjolras protested, only now noticing.

"Shame." Grantaire tried to sound truly sympathetic, but judging by the blond’s piercing glare, he did not quite manage it. Enjolras eased his glasses from his nose, setting them on the bedside table and then dropping his head back on the pillow.

"Come." He said airily. "Blanket me in warmth and the faint smell of oil paints."

"So poetic. I feel like I’m in bed with Jehan." Enjolras looked horrified at the idea, and Grantaire laughed at his scrunched up expression. 

"He does have sex, you know." Grantaire said, amused as he set about pulling off his own clothes.

"I don’t like to think about it." Enjolras insisted, and Grantaire nodded.

"Yes, I know." Grantaire said, and he slid into bed, pressing his lips to Enjolras’ nose before kissing his lips, his chin, his cheeks and his jaw. Enjolras let out a snort, and fell back to regard Grantaire lazily. 

"I love those glasses." Grantaire said.

"I rather noticed. Now, come love  _me_.” Grantaire laughed again, and dropped his mouth to Enjolras’ body, beginning to do so (as if he ever stopped).


End file.
